


After Ashes Fall

by akroveros



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Destroy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Medical Torture, Post-Canon, Revenge, Tags May Change, Warnings May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:06:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27911227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akroveros/pseuds/akroveros
Summary: The reapers have been defeated, but at what cost? The mass relays are severely damaged, the geth fleet has been wiped out in the aftermath of the crucible's activation, and Commander Darius Shepard is presumed dead.Can Garrus pick up the broken pieces and move on? What's the meaning behind the strange messages he's receiving? Both the Alliance and the Council are telling him that Shepard is dead, but his gut says otherwise.This is my first ever attempt at fanfic, so any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated! Tags will likely be changed/updated as chapters are added.
Relationships: Male Shepard/Garrus Vakarian
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	1. You Are Not Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Dang, first chapter coming out the gate swinging hard! I hope it had the same emotional impact I intended, but if not, that's okay too. Michael Jackson's "You Are Not Alone" has really been hitting different lately, so hopefully that comes across ^_^/
> 
> I'm still feeling a bit down after finishing the my most recent play-through of the series, so I did my best to capture that melancholy feeling.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Next chapter probably won't feel a whole lot better, but the suffering belongs to someone else at least, if that's any consolation. I swear this is going somewhere feel-good, just give it a while. Maybe 4 or 5 chapters? Idk, we'll see if I get that far.

Garrus looked longingly at the picture frame in his lap. The zoomed image of Shepard on Anderson’s couch made him wish he’d been a bit less sappy that night. If he hadn’t, he might have a better picture of him instead of his profile, but damn if it wasn’t one of the best nights of Garrus’ life. He used to have the picture zoomed out to include himself, but it reminded Garrus too much that Darius was beyond his reach.

Snapped out of his thoughts by a ping from his omni-tool, he finished suiting up and exited his cabin into the mess hall of the _Signus._

“Here you go!” The mess sergeant extended cheerily, motioning towards a tray on the table, “Cold breakfast, freshly cooked an hour ago.”

Garrus took the tray incredulously, “Thanks, you know I can’t eat something that hasn’t at least had a chance to make an escape attempt.”

“Laugh all you want, but you’re the one squatting like a refugee with the rest of us, Vakarian.” The cook shot back with a smile, his mandibles twitching.

“I’ll let the captain know you said that, Pax, she might just have to find another refugee to take back to Palaven.” He intended his tone to be more playful, but it came across more seriously than he realized.

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Sergeant Pax conceded, his tone stiffening. “How was the service?”

“Oh, you know, everyone’s hopelessly depressed these days.” Garrus sighed, “It was good though, to say goodbye.”

Shepard’s memorial was just yesterday back on Earth. The turnout was massive. Garrus wasn’t surprised to see such a large crowd. It was like the Alliance had invited the whole galaxy to mourn the loss of its savior, and he almost tried to shoot the lowlifes in the back of the crowd selling Shepard branded tchotchkes. Even the Council was in attendance, for what it was worth. Later that evening he had held a private service for close friends, wherein he placed Shepard’s name on the _Normandy’s_ memorial wall. Maybe it was just him who was hopeless.

“You were really close, weren’t you, Vakarian.” Pax said calmly.

“Maybe I was.” Garrus snapped.

Pax leaned away incredulously, arms crossed and mandibles twitching as if to scold him. After a pause, Garrus composed himself.

“My apologies, as you were sergeant.”

“Yes sir.”

He hoped he sounded more like a fellow soldier than a bereft lover, the turian hierarchy was less understanding than the Alliance regarding his and Shepard’s relationship. Sure, turian fraternization protocols were more relaxed, but that didn’t entirely extend to same-sex couples. Hell, if someone had told him a few years ago he’d be in love with another man, a human man even, his reaction would have been… less than polite. Either way, at the moment he couldn’t really be bothered to give a damn.

With a grunt, Garrus finished his meal and stowed his food tray, making his way to the _Signus’_ command deck. As he passed the various soldiers aboard, those that recognized him gave him a respectful berth. He wasn’t surprised to be famous among the turian fleet. He was Shepard’s right hand, and everyone knew it. From his time with Darius, he understood why he despised the spotlight. Everyone on the Citadel did the same thing when they had seen him. The hero worship turned Shepard into something… _other_ , set above the common folk. To some, he might as well be a god.

Reaching the command deck, the ship’s captain gave Garrus a respectful nod as he entered, stepping down from the central command platform.

“Captain Kestis, thank you for allowing me to return to Palaven aboard your vessel.”

“It’s my pleasure, sir. I feel a lot safer making the trek home with a part of Shepard’s crew aboard.”

Garrus’ didn’t respond.

A crewman spoke into the ship’s P.A. system from behind their console, “Thirty minutes to departure!”

The _Signus_ had only been in the Sol system for about a week, only arriving in the latter half of the final battle for Earth. Garrus had since chartered passage to Palaven on it, recognizing most of the crewmembers from the taskforce his father set up for him. With the pre-war supply lines they’d set up completely destroyed and the battle for Palaven stable, Captain Kestis and her small frigate were diverted to support the battle for Earth.

A lot of good that did. Garrus scoffed at the thought. With the mass relays severely damaged, the turian fleet was too busy making preparations to quickly return to Palaven to do anything useful. Without access to former supply chains, the fleet would starve without dextro-rations. No use dwelling on it now.

“It’ll take a lot longer to get back than it took to get here.” Kestis sighed. “Alright, let’s get moving people!”

“Ma’am, we’ve received a transmission from the _Destiny Ascension_. Councilor Sparatus would like to speak with you.”

Kestis’ brow raised, scoffing with a grin, “I think I know who he’d rather talk to. Patch him through, Lieutenant.”

The Councilor’s image popped up on the central display, and Kestis motioned for Garrus to step up to the platform. Spirits, first he all but commandeered Kestis’ ship, and now he’s standing at her command post. He just wanted to get this over with and get moving already.

“Ah, Garrus, just who I was hoping to see.” Sparatus said solemnly.

Garrus straightened up, “What can I do for you, Councilor?”

“I’d like to meet you aboard the _Normandy_ , if it’s not too much trouble. There’s a… sensitive matter that I’d like to discuss in person.”

Garrus’ brow furrowed, “As I understand sir, the _Normandy_ is now under the command of Major Alenko, and has been fully dedicated to Alliance interests.”

“Major Alenko is still a spectre, Garrus. The Alliance will make an exception.”

He highly doubted that. Despite Shepard’s insistence that galactic policy prioritize collaboration, agendas were still bound to clash eventually. Humanity didn’t even have a replacement for Udina yet, and that might take a while, if it happened at all. With former Councilor Anderson dead and Udina’s Cerberus coup, a lot of galactic residents would probably have preferred Shepard as humanity’s Councilor. Without him, it was a toss-up as to who the Alliance and the Council could agree upon to fill the position. His best guess was Admiral Hackett.

True to Sparatus’ word, Garrus had no difficulty accessing the _Normandy_. He wasn’t really surprised, given his history with the crew and the vessel itself, but it felt… off. His feelings were still too raw to step foot in the CIC. Knowing that Shepard wouldn’t be there to greet him, the way his vibrant green eyes sparkled just for him, radiant and bright against his dark olive skin, the barest hint of a smile parting his lips.

“Spirits, get it together Vakarian.” Garrus mentally berated himself. If he could weather Shepard’s death once, he could do it again.

Joker, still the most trusted pilot in the Alliance navy, was uncharacteristically quiet. They all understood that EDI’s death was necessary, Joker admitted as much. But that, combined with the loss of the Commander, had changed something in the man. Garrus hoped that he’d eventually return to his wise-cracking ways, to make the rest of the crew feel better, if not for Joker’s own sake. Without his banter with EDI and Shepard’s cheerful humming, the ship was too quiet. The low hum of the _Normandy’s_ engines from below seemed louder in the interim, reverberating throughout the ship. Idle chatter seemed too intrusive, like a knife that threatened to cut away the veil hiding everyone’s grief.

Once past the security checkpoint, Garrus met the Council in the conference room. Around the table sat the Council, Admiral Hackett, Admiral Shala’Raan vas Tonbay, and his fellow squad mates, Alenko, Tali, and Liara. Vega had probably been reassigned to some N7 mission already, and Javik must have been uninterested in the Council’s new mission, whatever it was. 

Or, perhaps he had already departed to rejoin his people. Now that his ancient vengeance was complete, there was little in the way of enamoring him to the new cycle.

“Hey Garrus, thanks for coming.” Kaidan welcomed him in. Tali and Liara nodded in acknowledgement.

“Garrus Vakarian, I understand your family recently escaped Palaven. I’ll see to it you’re reunited with them as soon as possible.” Councilor Tevos opened, “In the meantime, the Council has a mission well suited to the crew of the _Normandy_.”

“What kind of mission are we talking about here?” Tali spoke, curious. “The quarian fleet needs to prepare to escort the turian fleet to Palaven.”

“All in due time, Tali.” Admiral Raan interjected. “For now, the Council needs to inform you all of new developments.”

“What kind of developments?” Liara asked.

“The Council has unanimously decided to induct the quarian people into its ranks, naming Admiral Shala’Raan vas Tonbay and Admiral Steven Hackett as the new Councilors for quarians and humans, respectively.” Councilor Tevos stated imperiously.

The squad looked between themselves in disbelief.

“But a week ago quarians weren’t even allowed an embassy on the Citadel! And now you’re telling me we’re part of the Council? I don’t recall anyone calling a vote on this, Raan! The other admirals are going to blow a gasket!” Tali’s voice was a mix of surprise and anger. Given the other quarian admiralty members though, it was hard to argue with the Council’s choice.

“The aid of the quarian fleet was invaluable to the success of this war Tali’Zorah, you have only Shepard to thank for that.” Councilor Valern assured her.

“Admiral?” Kaidan looked at Hackett, “You’re okay with this?”

“I’m very okay with it, Major. The next few months are going to set the precedent for galactic politics for centuries.” Hackett replied. “The galaxy can’t afford to hold onto old grudges. You of all people understand that more than anyone.”

“I’ll be sure to open a bottle of bubbly for everyone.” Garrus was losing his patience. “Now, is that the only reason you brought us here, or is there some other universe-shattering news you’d like to share?”

“Yes, actually.” Liara chimed in. “There’s a specific mission that could use our particular… talents, as I understand it.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After hearing the mission the Council proposed, Garrus wasn’t too enthusiastic about it.

Project Phoenix, aptly named in Kaidan’s opinion, was a joint project that repurposed the available personnel from the Crucible, redirecting them to repair and rebuild the damaged mass relays. The _Normandy’s_ mission would be to act as a scout between relays, ensuring the relays were protected from vultures and malcontents, as Shepard would have phrased it. To top it all off, Kaidan announced that Garrus would be in command of the _Normandy_ , directly after the Council unceremoniously informed him of his new spectre status. Talk about unrelenting. It was as if his heart kept coming loose with each blow, reaching new lows in his carapace as it sank through his chest and stomach.

“It’d be more of a home to you than it ever will to me.” He remembered Kaidan telling him while he looked around Shepard’s untouched cabin. It all happened in a rushed blur, and he was speechless the entire time. He barely had enough time to scramble back to the _Signus_ and grab what little gear he’d taken.

As he sat on the bed, poring over the details of Project Phoenix, his weary eyes kept slipping from the datapad in his hands to the lazily tossed undershirt hanging loosely next to his leg. Darius never had been one for tidiness. He used the excuse that a mess “made a house a home”, or something like that. Taking the crème colored cloth in his dull talons, Garrus brought it to his nose and breathed deeply. It still smelled like bay rum and tobacco. For the longest time, Garrus wasn’t too fond of the heavy scent, since it had a tendency to overwhelm him for the first few minutes after Shepard applied it. The scent was warm, rich, and undeniably inviting. As Garrus drank in the smell, his chest became uncomfortably tight, and a painful lump formed in his throat. His jaw began to work into knots as he hunched over, a small keening noise escaping from him.

Before he was completely lost to the throes of grief, his head shot up when he heard the door of the cabin ping. Hurriedly tossing the shirt aside, Garrus stood, clearing his throat.

“Who is it?” His voice was throaty and obviously strained.

“Hey Garrus, it’s Steve, can I come in?” Cortez asked innocently.

“Um… sure.” Garrus answered. 

Garrus hadn’t spoken much with Cortez, but he seemed like a good man. Darius made it a point to be there for him in light of his husband Robert’s death. Darius looked up to the man, and considered him a mentor of sorts, and Garrus had a guess as to why he was here.

“You mind talking for a bit?” Cortez asked hesitantly, holding up two bottles of brandy. “I brought drinks.”

Garrus let out a shaky sigh.

“Why the hell not.” 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I hear you even made spectre status! That’s something to celebrate, at least.” Cortez had been trying his best to lift Garrus’ spirits, or at least offer a measure of sympathy.

“Good thing they didn’t ask. I probably would have turned them down.” The turian noted sourly.

“And why’s that, Vakarian? I think you’ve earned it.”

“You know damn well why, Steve.” Garrus snapped, his subvocals were going haywire with the potent combination of grief and drunkenness.

“Shepard was all I had left.” He didn’t mean for it to come out as a near whisper, but that knot in his throat was starting to come back. It was all he could do not to start keening again.

Cortez shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his expression a mix of apprehension and guilt. He looked as if he was mentally wrestling with something, and Garrus eyed him suspiciously.

“Ah hell, let’s just tear off the Band-Aid.” Throwing back the last of his drink, Cortez pulled up the display of his omni-tool.

“Shepard gave me something, after the two of you took down Kai Leng. Told me to show it to you if he… if he didn’t make it.”

Dammit, Garrus wasn’t prepared for this! He had no time to react before Shepard’s face filled the display. His emerald eyes pierced Garrus with their gaze, his curly black hair still shiny and wet from the shower. He watched the vid, utterly star struck.

“Hey Garrus. If Steve’s showing you this, I’m probably dead. If Tali’s showing you this, tell me I won our bet. If Liara’s showing you this, tell her to mind her damn business.” His tone was slightly distracted, like he had something on his mind. Garrus chuckled. Of course he and Tali would bet on something like that.

“Anyway, there’s a song from Earth that reminded me of you. It’s pretty old, so don’t let Vega make fun of my poor taste in music at my funeral, ok?” Shepard’s face flushed and he let out a small sigh. After a few seconds he began to sing. At first it was shaky and awkward, but grew in confidence as he continued.

_Another day has gone  
I'm still all alone  
How could this be  
You're not here with me  
You never said goodbye  
Someone tell me why  
Did you have to go  
And leave my world so cold_

_Everyday I sit and ask myself  
How did love slip away  
Something whispers in my ear and says_

_That you are not alone  
For I am here with you  
Though you're far away  
I am here to stay_

_But you are not alone  
I am here with you  
Though we're far apart  
You're always in my heart  
You are not alone_

As Shepard’s recording continued, Garrus was transfixed. Darius was always humming some song or other, but he’d never openly sang before. Every time Garrus asked him to, he’d get flustered and shut it all down. He was surprised at how nicely he sang. Even without subvocals his voice carried a clear tone and resonance that haunted Garrus. Even though his translator couldn’t parse some of the words, the message they carried was undeniable.

Garrus couldn’t help but remember their conversation on Earth.

“If I’m up there in that bar and you’re not, I’ll be looking down. You’ll never be alone.”

Never.

Before Shepard could finish the song, his singing was interrupted by a ping at the door. Garrus’ mandibles widened incredulously as he let out an involuntary gasp. Who interrupted Shepard’s recording?

“Well, looks like you’re at the door, you don’t like to be kept waiting, Mr. Vakarian.” His voice lowered to the flirty tone Garrus liked, “It’s not ‘Die for the Cause’ or ‘Fire in the Courtyard’, but I think it’s a pretty good one.”

It looked like Darius wanted to say more, but the door pinged again in the background.

“Anyway, I should go.” Shepard grinned with a wink. "I love you, Garrus."

Another ping sounded from the door.

“Alright, alright! Keep your fringe on–” he chuckled as the recording switched off.

Garrus and Steve sat in silence for what seemed an eternity, Garrus too overwhelmed to say anything and Steve too polite to offer potentially unwanted condolences. It took all he had to keep from melting into a useless keening mess. He didn’t dare look at Cortez, even if the human hadn’t been misty eyed himself.

“Thank you, Steve.” Garrus struggled, his voice cracking.

With a nod, Steve stood up to leave, stopping at the door.

“You can talk to us Garrus. We lost Shepard too.”

“Yeah, alright.”

After Steve had left, Garrus huddled himself on the bed, sobbing quietly. He played the recording over and over, letting Shepard softly sing him to sleep.


	2. With Vengeance Fulfilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Doctor Jurdin Tola had a promising career ahead of him, but now he's stuck caring for an unidentified marine, and Javik is on his way to the Cronian Nebula. After witnessing the contents of the echo shard, he's set on joining his people in death. Unfortunately for him, someone else has other plans for the poor prothean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one week? Crazy. I can't help it though! I've got an itch that needs scratching. We'll see if I keep up the pace, but to be honest I'll probably slow down after this one.
> 
> There's two character pov's in this one, hope nobody minds. I wanted to squeeze two chapters out of one, but no luck, ah well.
> 
> **EDIT** Uther Kellans the human is now Jurdin Tola the salarian, and this chapter has been edited accordingly.

Doctor Boronoa Proata Aifa Platform 14 Tola Jurdin had no idea what he was getting himself into. The reapers were finally defeated, and he was, what, supposed to stay sober? He could have been on shore leave by now, drinking his worries away with the rest of his classmates. He’d just earned his doctorate for Pete’s sake! Sure, working for the Alliance’s Cadmus division came with a hefty paycheck, but a personal care aid? Seemed like a few steps down from the advanced cybernetics and neural interfacing he had studied. He was supposed to be working in advanced genetics for the STG or invent a new biotic amp, not spend his time babysitting one human burn victim. He’d even burned bridges with his family back home to be here. He scoffed at how apt the human idiom was. Cybernetics and xenobiology was pretty far removed from helium-3 mining. It was almost as if he had told his family he was joining Eclipse, the way they reacted.

Jurdin nervously ran a hand under one of his horns, a habit he’d picked up in school to help him focus. Looking over the patient’s file, it looked like the poor fool had really gotten a raw deal. Former Systems Alliance marine, supposedly injured trying to get Commander Shepard to the Citadel Beam during the battle for Earth. Took a reaper’s plasma blast almost head on. To be perfectly honest, the man would have been better off dead. Injuries included scorched lungs, burned out retinas, an unsalvageable left arm, a severed spinal nerve, and the list went on. Similarly long was the list of cybernetic enhancements that the patient already had. It was almost as if someone had already spent a fortune rebuilding the man once before.

Regardless, someone was trying to snub Jurdin Tola’s budding career, and he wasn’t about to take it quietly. Hell, he was in the top of his class, and received top scores in all relevant fields! He’d turn that hunk of jerky into a damn geth if he had to. He was told he had plenty of resources available, he might as well use them.

What struck him as odd, however, was that the entirety of Cadmus’ Asclepius wing had been dedicated to this one patient. He’d even had to sign a non-disclosure agreement regarding his work for the organization. Similarly frustrating was that he wasn’t even the man’s actual doctor, just his nurse. Hopefully it wasn’t too hard to climb the corporate ladder.

Briskly walking into the patient’s room, Jurdin grimaced at the charred excuse for a human being sitting in a wheelchair in front of him. He was wrapped head to toe in bandages, and he wore a heavy respirator, connected with various tubes to a large assisted breathing apparatus. The burned nub that used to be his left arm stuck out at an odd angle.

Jurdin scoffed. Hard for medi-gel to fix what’s not there.

“Mr. Adonis, hello! I’m Doctor Jurdin Tola, I’ll be responsible for your comfort and wellbeing between treatments. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The mummy didn’t react. Tola knew that he was deaf in one ear, perhaps he was hard of hearing in the other. Perhaps he had a ruptured eardrum?

Kneeling before the stationary man, he noticed water stains running down the bandages on Adonis’ cheeks where his eyes used to be. He couldn’t imagine what the man must be going through. Gently placing his hand on his patient’s shoulder, the man jerked away at the touch, groaning weakly.

“My apologies, Mr. Adonis. I just need to check your right ear really quick, alright?” Still no response.

Doing his best to be gentle, he moved the bandages against the man’s ear. The bandaged patient seemed to endlessly writhe and squirm against him, his breathing and heart rate spiking. Quickly backing away, Tola let out a frustrated sigh. Couldn’t they get some asari to do this? They seemed to have the patience for it, at least. This would be a blip on the radar for one of them, considering the difference in lifespan. For him, this would be a defining moment of his career... possibly his entire career.

“Maybe some more pain meds wouldn’t hurt.” Tola sighed.

Strangely, the report he received on the patient must have been incomplete. It had no mention of pain relief medications. Maybe the previous nurse would know. 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What do you mean he’s not on any pain meds!?” Tola raged into the commlink. 

“Do you have any idea what this man has been through!? He’s got third degree burns covering the top half of his body and in his lungs! Get him some oxycetamol or dermatrocyl at least! ... Why the hell not!?”

“What do you mean the skin graft failed? Your records show that a human skin graft hasn’t failed in almost _two hundred years!_ ”

“He was injured in the war, wasn’t he? Can’t we get him some kind of neural interface to restore his sight? Last I checked your Alliance _did_ subsidize them for military vets!”

He sighed, his breathing and heart rate elevated after his infuriating series of fruitless calls. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he shook with rage. Either he was dealing with severe incompetence or heavy handed bureaucracy, and he didn’t know which was worse.

“Unlimited resources they said.” Tola muttered sardonically. “Must be some kind of human joke.”

Something was very off about this whole thing. For the past month, someone was wrapping him up with red tape, and a lot of it. Why were they trying to keep this man alive if they weren’t going to properly treat him? Were they _trying_ to make him suffer? Tola was meeting active resistance, so his hypothesis regarding negligence was looking slim. What could a single man have possibly done to deserve such a fate?

Walking back to Mr. Adonis’ room, Tola was shocked to see that his patient was nowhere to be seen. Running out of the room, he approached the nearest security guard.

“Where the hell is my patient!?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Javik double checked his heading. His faith in this cycle’s technology was suspect at best, especially if those primitive “emails” were anything to judge by. If left unchecked, his small ship might land itself on a gas planet, and he wasn’t going to let his fate end so shamefully.

It was difficult, finding a ship to take to the Cronian Nebula. Many primitives were making their way back to their worlds, away from Earth. Without the relays, space travel was slow and inefficient. Eventually, he asked a hanar to honor the enkindler before it, and the primitive parted with its personal vessel willingly. How gullible these primitives were.

The vessel itself was slow and inefficient, even by this cycle’s standards, and Javik was growing impatient. Without the benefit of a stasis pod, he preferred to get there before another fifty-thousand years had passed. It didn’t help that the previous hanar pilot was often filled with fear and apprehension. The primitive must have been bad at its job. Javik needed to wash his hands soon, should he run the risk of inheriting the hanar’s cowardice.

“This ship is pitiful!” Javik strained against the console, threatening to tear it in half. “It would have been better as bait for the reapers!”

He had underestimated the speed and prowess of the _Normandy_ compared to other ships of this cycle, and wished he had taken that vessel instead. The Joker human would have been easy to coerce with the threat of pain, now that the EDI synthetic aboard was destroyed.

The Commander would have been upset by that. But the Commander was dead, why did Javik care? 

Because the Commander had earned Javik’s respect as the Avatar of Victory. Forcefully taking the Commander’s vessel would have sullied his sacrifice, and was akin to treachery.

The Commander was strange, for a primitive. Compared to other humans, he was also strange. He was somehow different in the thoughts his DNA had told Javik. Pity and sorrow toward him were common among the primitives he met in this cycle, as was the desire to study him. But the Commander’s sorrow was _for_ Javik, and there was no pity in it. The Commander wanted to _know_ him, not to study him. The asari (Liara T’Soni, as she insisted he call her) had tried to perceive Javik in a similar way, and failed regularly.

Of course, Javik had no use for that distinction. The Commander was dead, as Javik soon would be as well. As soon as he laid his comrades in the Cronian Nebula to rest, he would join them in their extinction. A dead empire whose enemies were destroyed had no further use for vengeance.

Javik’s thoughts paused. Mourning the dead was a luxury he had never observed. When his own subordinates betrayed him, he did not mourn them. Even when he tracked them down and cut their throats himself, he did not mourn them. Was he mourning for the Commander?

No, that would be an absurd and grotesque insinuation. Shepard— the Commander, was a soldier that knew his duty and fulfilled it. He would remember what the Commander had accomplished, he had even recorded it in the echo shard, but he would not mourn. What purpose would it serve? Javik shook his head and breathed deeply, clearing his thoughts.

No, he would not mourn.

His patience temporarily restored, Javik continued on his course. Noting his emptying fuel reserves, he keyed in the coordinates to the nearest fuel depot.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You tellin’ me you got _no creds_?” The depot worker asked incredulously. “Sorry, but I can’t help ya without ‘em.”

“I have no need for ‘creds’, batarian. The currency of this cycle is inconsequential. You will give me fuel or you will perish.” Javik threatened with a straight face.

“Hey now, I don’t appreciate bein’ strong-armed, buddy.” The batarian grabbed a pistol from beneath the counter. Calmly placing it down, his four eyes glared at Javik from behind the glass barrier.

“Now I’d appreciate a change in tone, unless you wanna get spaced and your ship sold for scrap. And since the relay’s out, we’ll take any food you got, as a surcharge for attitude. For your sake, I hope it’s not any dextro shit.”

Javik did not wait to consider the batarian’s inane offer. Desperation had turned the depot worker into a petty bandit, and he would be dealt with accordingly.

“A foolish proposition, batarian, but one that can be rectified.”

Without giving him time to react, Javik smashed through the glass barrier with a biotic burst, peppering the depot worker with a myriad of knife-like shards as he was thrown against the far wall. The batarian slumped and fell to the floor, unmoving.

With the obstruction removed, Javik hopped over the counter, checking the fuel depot’s docking registry.

“Now I understand why the empire saw little value in your species.” Javik muttered. The fuel depot’s alarms began to scream as red lights flashed throughout the station. Probably because one of their workers was dead.

Accessing the registry, Javik noted the fuel depot’s low rate of traffic, now that the relay in the system was damaged. Fortunately for him, another ship had docked just before he did. The specifications showed a frigate called the _SSV Medusa_. More importantly, it was still there. It was an Alliance vessel, but he owed the humans no loyalty. Anything would be faster than the hanar vessel. He just needed to convince the crew that he needed it more than they did.

Javik’s attention flared when he heard the scraping of glass, turning just in time to block the fist that was flying toward the side of his skull. Apparently this batarian was more resilient than others of his species. How troublesome. The two of them traded blows, the batarian unfazed by the blades embedded in his flesh. His remaining three eyes bore into Javik’s with a presence absent of ego. He wasn’t angry, or in pain. Even Javik, an unflinching warrior born to a desperate era and avatar of his people’s vengeance, was unnerved.

With each touch Javik felt a mind that was no longer there. How could this be? The memories encoded in him by his life and his ancestors were fading as he fought. The batarian was empty, acting on behalf of an unknown puppet master. As the two continued their dance of blows, the batarian could not keep pace. The glass inside him shredded his body with each movement, and Javik gained the upper hand. Grabbing the pistol on the counter, he fired a decisive shot into the batarian’s forehead.

Readying his pulse rifle, Javik carefully went through the station towards the frigate, listening intently to any hint of ambush between the screeching sirens. Three more batarians and four humans attacked him, some alone and some working together, but the result was the same. Javik dispatched them quickly, an act of mercy to the soulless creatures. He could not tell what kind of indoctrination this was. These husks made no sound, nor had their bodies been changed by the reapers. Every husk moaned with the pain of reaper infection, every corpse bearing the remnant of past life, so why not these?

Perhaps he’d be better off with the hanar ship. Then again, if the crew of the _Medusa_ was similarly indoctrinated, he’d “be a sitting duck”, as the humans said, completely at the mercy of their superior power. He would neither sit nor duck.

Rounding the last corridor toward the _Medusa_ , the ship came into full view. If he didn’t know any better, he might confuse it for the _Normandy_. Coming upon the vessel, the docking bay doors opened, a single man walking out.

He wore armor of crimson blood, the fittings and rivets brightly burnished in gold. Through his helmet Javik heard his heavy breathing, he labored and rasped like a volus. He walked stiffly, as if he had not done so in too long, his left arm rigid as it lifted, his pistol firing at the prothean. On his chestplate, an N7 logo was carved.

Taking cover, Javik thought the armor looked similar to the geth synthetics. The sheer number of tubes and wires coming from the creature betrayed it's frailty. Perhaps he was quarian. If that were the case, he needed to remove the abomination’s helmet.

With a dive, Javik took a few shots at the soldier, the beam of his plasma rifle boring into a biotic barrier. The soldier advanced, unwavering.

No, quarians could not use biotics, as far as he knew, and the legs were wrong. Using this knowledge, he launched a dark channel at his opponent, to destabilize the enemy barrier.

The soldier released a biotic warp, followed by a throw, detonating Javik’s barrier and knocking him down. He continued to advance. His biotics were powerful, for a primitive. Most biotics in this cycle worth noting were asari. Despite his circumstances, Javik was impressed with his enemy’s power.

Javik retreated a few yards, allowing his barrier to recharge. To get flanked and overpowered by his opponent would be idiocy. He threw a lift grenade, hoping to detonate the soldier’s barrier.

With a toss of an arm, the soldier caught the grenade with a biotic shockwave, throwing it back before it detonated. The blast tore through Javik’s barrier again, disrupting his hearing. The situation was dire. The soldier launched another attack, and Javik was helpless. The soldier’s singularity lifted him off his feet and out of cover.

This situation was very dire.

Doing his best to orient himself, he fired against the soldier, who finally dove for cover. He could not be allowed to detonate the singularity with warp or throw. Even as the singularity ravaged Javik’s body, he laid down suppressing fire to wait out his helplessness.

As time wore on, Javik’s fire wavered, his vision blurred. The singularity was not fading.

The soldier was out of cover for only an instant. Taking advantage of Javik’s fatigue, he managed to launch another biotic attack.

Javik grunted, his plasma rifle torn from his grip. The soldier deftly caught the weapon, his lightning reflexes dropping his pistol and protecting his helmet from the rifle’s impact.

The soldier took his enemy’s weapon, bringing it to bear against its former master.

Standing upon the singularity, the soldier waved a hand, and Javik fell to the floor. He gritted his teeth as he landed, grunting with the pain of the impact. Who was this human? He used singularity, warp, throw, shockwave, and pull. Most biotics could only hope to master two or three biotic attacks, but this soldier had easily used five in combat. His opponent was impressive indeed.

As Javik lay at the mercy of the soldier in front of him, and he knew he was bested. The soldier brought the barrel of Javik’s plasma rifle level with the prothean’s forehead, but hesitated before pulling the trigger. An unfamiliar voice echoed through the station’s announcement speakers.

“Adonis, we need the prothean _alive_.”

The soldier did not respond to the order. He simply stood, gun aimed, his chest heaving for lost breath. Tendrils of dark energy wafted off of the soldier’s drained barrier, Javik’s dark channel still leeching away at his mass effect field.

“Adonis!”

The soldier’s head cocked the slightest degree, almost in annoyance. At this rate, Javik’s barriers would start to recharge. With a full barrier, perhaps he could…

“Adonis, stand down!” The voice was becoming agitated. “We’ll have a recovery team out shortly!”

“You seem to be at odds with your superiors, human.” Javik chided, “Why do they need me? What purpose would I serve?”

The soldier called Adonis shook himself, as if to ward off the cold. Javik’s barrier was almost at full strength, and the soldier’s was not.

“Adonis!”

“Tell me, human, what good is a single fossil?” Reaching for a lift grenade, Javik threw it straight at the soldier’s head.

As the grenade detonated, it reacted with the energy field wreaking havoc on the soldier already, increasing its potency. Javik watched in grim satisfaction as the soldier flew backwards, his armor separating from him in shattered pieces.

Javik slowly stood, clutching his side and wiping the blood from his mouth. Limping to the soldier, he took in the visage of his opponent.

The man’s exposed chest and head were covered in countless scars, his bald head glistening with sweat as he struggled to breathe. Many cybernetics shown through his skin all over his body, and white ceramic eye implants looked up at him. Javik could not decipher the human’s expression from behind the intact face shield covering his nose and mouth. On the left side of his head appeared to be an audio device in place of an ear, and the damaged armor plating on his left arm revealed it to be a synthetic prosthesis, the artificial muscles twitching unnaturally. The human’s right arm looked to be his own, but it too was covered in heavy scars. Javik’s plasma rifle lay a few feet away, nothing more than a smoldering heap.

Kneeling, Javik straddled the man, sitting on his chest, one hand on the floor next to the man’s mangled right ear.

“You will not kill me today, human.” Javik growled. Reaching up, he placed his free hand on the human’s throat to strangle him.

A foolish mistake.

His mind, like the others, was empty, but his memories were intact, and they each fought for Javik’s attention. They clawed and tore across his eyes in an instant. He saw so many things. Too many things. The human struggled against him, his chest convulsing.

Javik saw reapers destroying countless planets indiscriminately, Cerberus soldiers mowing down innocent civilians, and collectors harvesting human colonists. He saw thresher maws consuming entire scores of soldiers, and he watched batarian slavers kill a little boy’s parents.

It was not the images he saw that sunk their fangs into the flesh of Javik’s mind. He was accustomed to the suffering caused by the reapers. He was desensitized to the atrocities of war, but the human was not. What overwhelmed him were the emotions the human carried with them. Each memory carried deeper sorrow than he could imagine, dark and cold like the void itself. Each new tragedy the human had seen cut him just as deeply as the last. There was only one thing that carried the same pain, one other object that held a sorrow so complete.

The echo shard.

But the echo shard held the record of destruction for an entire people, a people beyond saving. It was the account of an empire that was no more. This human had no right to feel this much grief for so much less.

Unable to hold on any longer, Javik let go of the man’s throat. His hands trembled, like they did after he used the echo shard. Adonis gulped and gagged, trying to fill his lungs. Slowly, his breathing found some level of stability.

“You..!” Javik’s jaw worked back and forth in disbelief, an unfamiliar sensation of wetness on his cheeks. He fumbled numbly at his hip, reaching for the pistol taken from the batarian. With a jerk, Adonis’ synthetic arm came up, connecting with the side of Javik’s head, and the prothean’s vision went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who is this mysterious Mr. Adonis? I get the feeling it'll be pretty obvious, but for the sake of my own pride I'm not gonna say, lol ^_^/
> 
> I did my best to write Javik's section as in-character as possible, so please let me know how I did! Any comments or criticism would be welcome!


	3. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus is still settling in as the commanding officer of the Normandy, and Shepard left some big shoes to fill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 babey! Sorry to say this chapter is mostly dialogue, setting up crew member relations and what-not. But hey! Makes the climax that much more cathartic imo.
> 
> **EDIT:** Minor grammar fixes and fixed Garrus' convo with Joker

Garrus paced anxiously across the comm room. He’d just received a message from Specialist Traynor that his father and sister had safely made it back to Palaven. Eventually, his father came into view on the holographic display.

“Dad!” Garrus leaned on the handrail before pushing himself back off, “Damn it’s good to see you! Where’s Solana? Is she alright?”

“Calm down Garrus, your sister is fine. She’s recovering quickly.” His father’s mandibles twitched often, betraying his calm and composed tone. He’d never seen his old man so overtaken by emotion. “How are you son? How soon can you get back?”

Back. To Palaven. That might be an issue.

“The turian fleet is being escorted by the quarian flotilla. If mass relay reconstruction falls behind projected targets, they’re estimated to arrive sometime within the next five years.”

“Five years, huh? Damn. And how long will it take _you_ to get here?” Sharp as ever. Dammit.

“Well you see dad, here’s the thing…”

Garrus and his father spent over an hour and a half talking. There was a lot to catch up on. He told his father about his new posting, his new spectre status, and about Phoenix. He didn’t mention Shepard. He’d let the vids handle that. Garrus also listened intently as his father gave him the state of Palaven’s situation, and it was bad. With his homeworld utterly wasted by reaper forces, it would take decades to recover. He expected that would be the case. Palaven, like many other planets, was fragile, and the next few years could be a tipping point for many of them.

“It was good to see you, dad. Can I speak with Solana? Is she there?”

“Yeah, let me go get her. Goodbye Garrus.” His father turned to exit. “Stay safe. I mean it.”

“Bye dad, I’ll miss you.” Garrus said quietly.

Soon after, Solana took the place their father once occupied. Her leg was bound in a cast, but she seemed to be walking fine.

“You look like crap.” She stated bluntly.

“Speak for yourself.” Garrus retorted with a soft chuckle. “How are you, Sol? You and dad holding up?”

“We’re doing fine. I hear you’re not coming home for a while? Can’t say I’m surprised.” She was trying to play it off as a lighthearted jab, but her tone indicated otherwise.

“Yeah. Something with work came up. Spectre stuff.”

“ _You’re_ a spectre? Garrus Vakarian’s a spectre? Damn.” Solana huffed with a smile. She spoke like she had him caught in a lie. “Congrats. I bet you have the famous Commander Shepard to thank for that. Every vid the guy’s in has you tagging along like a lost klixen. Did he put in a good word for you before he died?”

“Something… like that.” Garrus hesitated, his mandibles twitching. Turians were more blunt than humans when it came to the death of fellow soldiers. After all, soldiers died every day. The incompetent ones at least. As far as she knew, that’s all Shepard was to him, a fellow soldier.

“I think you and dad would have liked him. He really wanted to meet the two of you. He was… something else.” Distracted by the memory, he forgot to watch himself. His spoke as if in awe. More than was healthy between coworkers.

“Why would Commander Shepard want to meet… _oh_.” Her expression changed from one kind of confusion to the other as realization dawned on her. Garrus’ attention caught on “oh”.

Shit.

Spirits, this was bad. He wasn’t ready to divulge the details of his “partnership” with Shepard. He needed to contain this. A pit was steadily growing in Garrus’ stomach as a cold wave of dread washed over him.

“Don’t tell dad!” Garrus blurted.

“Tell me what?” He heard his father in the background. Solana’s brows plates raised, her mandibles spread and her mouth slightly agape. She wanted to savor this.

Scrambling for the console, Garrus hurried to disconnect the transmission.

“Bye Sol, talk later! Love ya!”

“Bye Garrus! You owe me!” Solana threatened with a smile.

“Tell me what, Garrus?” His father popped back into the display just as Garrus switched it off. With a heaving sigh, he slumped to his knees, pressing his forehead against the handrail. After a terrifying minute, Garrus stood, composed himself, and activated his comm clip.

“Traynor, block all incoming transmissions from Palaven.” Garrus commanded shakily.

“Something the matter? I’m not seeing any malicious signals or distress calls.”

“Just do it, please.”

“Uhhh, sure.”

He’d definitely have to put out that fire eventually. He’d also have to apologize to Sol for dumping their dad on her. For now though? As the humans said, ignorance was bliss.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Approaching the Charon Relay.” Joker stated calmly. After a month of waiting, Earth's relay was repaired well enough to send a small ship through to the Exodus Cluster, Earth’s closest galactic neighbor. The crew of the Normandy had been worked ragged in the interim.

Due to the galaxy’s reliance on mass relays, current FTL drives were just not up to the task of traversing the vast wilderness of the Milky Way. To help alleviate this issue, the _Normandy_ , as well as a handful of other ships, had been outfitted with a prototype fuel synthesis system, developed as a joint project between the quarian flotilla and the Alliance’s Cadmus division. It wouldn’t solve the problem long term, but it would allow for recovery efforts to begin more quickly.

“Take us through, Joker.” Garrus instructed calmly. The relay wouldn’t be as accurate or as far reaching as usual, but it would get them a hell of a lot closer than otherwise.

“Copy that, sir.” Joker’s tone was professional and curt. Now who had a stick up his ass?

The _Normandy_ passed through the relay without issue. When they landed, sensors indicated they were still a few dozen light-years away from their intended target. The ship hummed quietly. Too quietly.

“Level with me here, Joker.” Garrus let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Garrus.” Joker responded. “I’m still the best pilot you got. It’ll take more than the deaths of my dad, my girlfriend, and my boss to keep me down.”

That’s what Garrus was afraid of. Humans and turians both had bereavement leave for a reason. At least Joker’s sister was safe and accounted for.

“Just don’t work too hard.” Garrus instructed. “You might be the best pilot for now, but don’t overdo it.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I let Cortez fly my bird.” Joker scoffed. Garrus smiled at the human idiom. Maybe Joker would be alright after all.

The Exodus Relay was worse for wear when they reached it a few hours later. By Liara’s estimates, the damage was comparable to the Charon Relay. That was good news, as far as Garrus was concerned.

“Most of the debris should be salvageable.” She looked over the large display in her quarters. “I’ll need time to compile a report of all the pieces and whether it’s all there.”

“Good, keep me updated. Thanks, Liara.” Garrus said, looking around. “Where’s Glyph? I thought he followed you everywhere.”

“Oh, he’s around.” Liara answered non-committedly. His programming was simple enough to have survived the Crucible, so he couldn’t have been deactivated.

With a shrug, Garrus moved on. Liara was still needed to organize her assets as the Shadow Broker, now that most of them were stranded in systems all over. He needed to check on Tali. Her skills made her ideal for this project, and another friendly face made it that much easier.

Entering the short hallway to the engine room, Garrus stopped as he heard someone quickly hushing themselves on the sub-deck.

“Anyone down there?” He called, his mandibles twitching. No response.

Great. Kenneth and Gabby were probably in the middle of stripping down some “siding” and installing new “thermal couplings”, or something to that effect. Garrus kept walking. He’d have to talk to the crew later about slacking during shifts.

Walking into the engine room, he was surprised to see that both engineers Daniels and Donnelly were at their posts, busily maintaining the _Normandy’s_ systems. It seemed like Tali was the one missing from her post. Engineer Adams looked up from his console.

“Something I can do for you, sir?”

“No, thank you. Carry on Adams.”

“Yes sir.” Adams nodded.

Turning to pass through the doors, Garrus walked through the hallway, letting the opposite door open and hiss shut. Holding his breath, he listened for any signs of life from the sub-deck below.

Eventually, his patience was rewarded with a soft sigh, followed by what sounded like sniffling. As he tip-toed his way down the stairwell, Garrus was pleased to note that his footfalls were masked by the hum of the engine nearby. And Shepard said he was bad with subtlety.

Creeping ever closer, Garrus heard Tali’s familiar voice, humming an even more familiar tune. As she came into view, he saw her watching the recording Shepard had left him. His heart caught in his throat as he listened, her attempts at humming along interrupted by soft bouts of sobbing.

He needed to go. Now.

Turning to make his escape, he almost jumped out of his carapace when his omni-tool started to ping at regular intervals. Whoever was messaging him would get skinned alive! Fumbling to mute the obnoxious noise, Garrus froze in his tracks.

“Garrus.” Tali sniffed, her omni-tool already muted and stowed. “Need something?”

She didn’t make eye contact with the turian, instead focusing her masked gaze on a nearby access panel. Her voice was thick and hoarse. How long had she been down here?

“Sorry, Tali. Didn’t mean to intrude.” Garrus stated anxiously. “So… I take it you lost a bet?"

Tali scoffed.

“Yeah, something like that.” She rubbed her arm, her head down. “Sorry, you probably didn’t want me to watch that.”

“No, no, by all means. He trusted you with it, the one I’m worried about is Liara.” He chuckled.

Tali let out a short bark of laughter. “Yeah well, he was _your_ boyfriend, Garrus. Liara can deal with it.”

Garrus cringed at the word "boyfriend". Sure he felt comfortable with it around Shepard, that was a given, but he’d never said it around anyone else before. Then again, he couldn’t deny that the entire crew of the Normandy knew about the two of them. How their relationship shifted from mentor and protégé to lovers at arms. 

The two stood in silence for a moment. Garrus cleared his throat in the uncomfortable quiet.

"He’d be proud of you, Garrus.” Tali said softly. “I am, at least.”

Goddamn did everyone on this ship know how to punch him in the proverbial throat? It was like the whole crew knew just what to say to put him on the verge keening like a child.

“Just make sure to get a full scan of the Exodus Relay.” Garrus said abruptly, his tone unintentionally harsh. He paused for a moment, taking a second to soften his voice. “I should go.”

Turning to go up the stairs, he almost ran, doing his best to compose himself. Damn it, he interrupted Tali at a bad time and then yelled at her. He’d have to make it up to her somehow. He was also surprised at how easily he said “I should go.” Funny, that used to be Shepard’s line.

At the top of the stairwell, Garrus’ omni-tool pinged again. Whoever it was thought it was important. Garrus turned on his comm.

“What is it?” He snapped.

"Damn, who pissed in your cereal this morning?" Joker retorted.

"You know Joker, usually when someone refuses your call the first time, odds are they're probably busy."

“What? I didn't... never mind. Do you know what Kaidan’s doing in the main battery?” Joker asked, alarmed. “Systems diagnostic show a 300% increase in power intake.”

Well that couldn’t be good.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After rushing to the main battery, Garrus hurriedly untangled the mess of whatever the hell Kaidan had done to the _Normandy’s_ guns.

“How did you mess them up _this badly?_ " Garrus interrogated. Kaidan’s face flushed.

“Just trying to help out. It’s been a long time since I calibrated the SR1.” Kaidan chuckled, embarrassed.

“I’d have given you some pointers.” Garrus accused, hurt by the blatant destruction to his delicate calibrations.

“Or taken over completely.” Kaidan pointed out calmly. “You’ve got a lot on your plate, Garrus. I was just trying to help out.”

Garrus sighed. Kaidan was an enigma to him. He seemed like such a nonentity at first glance. Quiet, annoyingly polite, and as level headed as a VI. Sometimes he even spoke like a VI.

“I appreciate the assessment, Kaidan. But next time give me a heads up, alright?” Garrus sighed, exhausted.

“Sure thing.” Kaidan conceded. “Can I get you anything? You look a little pale under those armor plates.” Perceptive as ever.

“Single handedly saving the ship from exploding tends to do that.” Garrus accused. He leaned against the workbench on the wall, crossing his arms.

“Running around checking up on everyone doesn’t help.” Garrus leaned his head back, closing his eyes. “Just give me a moment, I’ll give you another chance to blow up the ship here in a second.”

He recalled that towards the end of the war, Shepard’s biometrics showed that he was under more stress than he was at Akuze, and Garrus believed it. Now he was starting to understand it, if only a little.

“You’re not Shepard, Garrus, but I’ll be damned if you’re not the closest thing we’ve got.” Kaidan confided. “I’ve got your back, and so does everyone else. You’re not alone in this.”

He was starting to hear that phrase everywhere.

“Is that why you handed me the _Normandy_? Why the Council gave me spectre status? Out of pity?” Garrus asked sourly.

“Because you had Shepard’s back when I walked away.” Kaidan’s voice stayed level, but now bore a slight edge. “Ask anyone and they’ll tell you the same thing. You’re better suited for this than I ever will be.”

Garrus took note of Kaidan’s words. He was hurting too, as much as he didn’t show it. Thinking back on it, the man had always been under Darius’ shadow, looking up to him. Kaidan was just second best compared to Shepard. Second best biotic, second best soldier, second best spectre. Even when Kaidan nearly died on Virmire, it was Shepard who saved him. And now that Darius was gone, the Council, the Alliance, and the rest of the galaxy had chosen Garrus instead.

Shoving himself off from the workbench he had been leaning on, Garrus exited the main battery.

“C’mon, Kaidan. I need a drink.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never paid much attention to Kaidan before, he just seemed like another person that was there to fill a role tbh. Ah well, I like him better than Ashley at least.
> 
> Feel free to comment what you liked or disliked! I need the sweet serotonin that comes with validation and criticism lmao.


	4. The Cost of Triumph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus receives an ominous message, does it lead to a trap?
> 
> Doctor Tola's patient is returned to him, some new cybernetics in tow. Just what does Cadmus have planned for poor Mr. Adonis?
> 
> **EDIT** Like in Chapter 2, the human Dr. Uther Kellans has been replaced by the salarian Dr. Jurdin Tola! How nefarious!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really trying to earn the "medical torture" tag with this one, so be warned. It's not enough to warrant an explicit rating just yet in my opinion, but I might get there in a later chapter, who knows?

After having a few too many drinks and spending a few too many hours in the ship’s lounge, Garrus drunkenly fumbled with his omni-tool.

“I swear it’s on here… somewhere.” He flipped through his files, looking for his recording of Shepard. “Trust me, it was the most heart-breaking thing I’ve seen _in my life_ , Kaidan. Had me keening like a baby. Him and Tali even made _bets_ on it.”

Kaidan didn’t say a word, raising his glass sluggishly.

Skimming through his omni-tool, Garrus was distracted by a notification that he had a missed call.

Stumbling away from the counter, Kaidan forgotten, Garrus made a few drunken steps before unceremoniously dropping onto the couch, falling into a deep, alcohol-induced slumber.

He awoke in a confused haze. His head ached, feeling as if his fringe was about to be peeled off. He rubbed his sore mandibles, his mouth uncomfortably dry. He hadn’t drank that much in a while.

Looking to where he’d last seen Kaidan, he was already gone; probably to replace the alcohol in his blood with coffee. How much had Garrus told him last night? He didn’t want to remember.

Turning his bleary gaze to his still-open voicemail, he opened the memo left for him. The message in question was quiet, save for the heavy breathing of whoever was contacting him. Was it a volus? After a confused minute of wondering how someone got his contact information, Garrus was about to close the message and block the caller before the sender finally spoke.

“I have the prothean. Meet me where the war began.”

Did he mean Javik? Whoever it was knew something and wasn’t shy with ominous, cryptic messages. Garrus thought the voice was familiar, but it was gravelly and thin. It didn’t match anyone he could remember, and he knew very few volus.

He’d never been overly fond of Javik, but the prothean knew a thing or two about reapers, that was for sure. While on the ship, Javik had even shown interest in conversing with Garrus, exchanging tactics. His ruthlessness was jarring, and reminded Garrus of where his own priorities might lie if he hadn’t met Shepard. How Javik prioritized the success of the mission, regardless of the cost, or how many innocent lives hinged on the outcome of each decision. That was where the two of them failed to see eye to eye, but nonetheless Garrus respected the prothean’s abilities.

But where the war began? What the hell was that supposed to mean? Walking into the mess, Garrus found Kaidan where he knew he’d be. The man was even pouring himself a cup of coffee, probably his fourth one that morning. He looked fresh as a daisy, not a single hint of a hangover weighing down his demeanor. Maybe there was more to the human beverage than Garrus realized. Shepard was always downing the stuff.

“Morning Garrus.” Kaidan greeted cheerily. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough.” He replied grumpily. “I got a question for you. You were there when Shepard activated that prothean beacon, right?”

Kaidan stiffened. The other crewmen in the mess hall talked a little quieter.

“Yeah, I was there. Happened about five years ago now, back on Eden Prime.” Kaidan recalled. “If not for Shepard stepping in, damn thing probably would have killed me.” Garrus grunted in response, lost in thought. Five years, huh? It’d really been that long since Darius learned about Saren, and Garrus had all but begged to join him in taking down the rogue spectre. He chuckled softly, a blue tinge coloring his cheeks as he remembered the fresh faced human, showing all the rage and frustration that Garrus himself was feeling. Maybe that was what had initially drawn him to the man, a kindred spirit looking for justice when no one else was. The rest was history, as Darius would’ve said. Then Shepard died, and a part of Garrus died with him. All of the things he’d left unsaid, every impulse he’d stifled as his affection grew, suddenly torn away.

Then it was as if all of those buried feelings and regrets bloomed, stronger and more resilient when he realized it was Darius’ powerful biotics that were fighting to reach Omega’s Archangel. How that familiar fear returned when he kept his feelings to himself, convinced that Shepard’s affections lie elsewhere. The feeling that his heart might burst after Darius comforted him when Garrus told him he’d gotten his team killed, or the rage and bitterness he felt towards himself when Shepard stopped him from killing Sidonis. How he felt empty and alone when he watched the Crucible explode with Darius still on it. To say a lot had happened in the last five years would be the biggest understatement in the universe.

“Everything alright, Garrus?” Kaidan eyed the turian cautiously, taking another sip. Garrus bristled at the question, his thoughts interrupted. How long had Garrus been silently standing there, staring at the poor man?

“Sounds like we’re paying Eden Prime a visit.” Garrus said commandingly, clearing his throat. His mandibles twitched in embarrassment as he turned, briskly walking to his locker.

“What?” Alarmed, Kaidan set down his mug, jogging a short distance after the turian. “What business do we have on Eden Prime?”

Garrus replayed the mysterious message.

“Okay, now I understand the significance, but how is this not some kind of scheme to draw us away from the relay? The salvage from it would be worth a fortune!”

“Call it a turian’s intuition.” Garrus replied calmly. Spirits, he hoped he was right about this. Turning on his comm, Garrus contacted Specialist Traynor. He was hoping she could get a trace on the caller’s signal.

“I was going to ask you about that.” Traynor responded coolly. “I noticed an encoded signal coming from Eden Prime a few hours ago. It was too heavily encrypted for a regular house call, but it’ll take me a while to figure out who sent it.”

“Keep me posted.” Garrus replied. If Kaidan was right, the _Normandy_ would need to stay close to the relay. Besides, Eden Prime was in the same system, a quick shuttle ride would suffice. Garrus quickly popped his head into Liara’s office.

“Liara, meet me in the shuttle bay, we roll out in five.” Before she could respond he was back at his locker, turning to Kaidan. “ _Normandy’s_ yours, Alenko.”

“And what if you’re walking into a trap?” Kaidan pointed out. His expression was a mixture of disappointment and determination. “I’m a spectre too, Garrus. I’m coming with you.”

“Fine. Go ahead and gear up.” Garrus sighed. He didn’t have time to argue with the man. Kaidan nodded, briefly putting a hand on Garrus’ shoulder before opening his own locker. Garrus activated his comm once more, making one last announcement.

“Tali, report to the CIC, the _Normandy_ answers to you until I get back. If any mercs touch that relay, give ‘em hell for me. Cortez, prep the shuttle, we’re heading out.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What the hell did you do to him!?” Doctor Tola hissed at the surgeon as she wheeled Adonis into his room. She remained silent.

“You know, it would be easier to care for my patient when I know just what you plan on doing to the poor man!” Tola continued. Still, the surgeon didn’t respond. She simply stood, disconnected the patient’s mobile air tank, and left with it.

“Damn it.” Tola rushed to reconnect Adonis’ breather, rubbing the back of his neck before connecting the man’s I.V. drip. It had been three weeks since he’d last seen his patient! What all had happened in that time? These humans were difficult to glean secrets from. Back in school he thought he had a decent grasp of human social cues. When a secret was personal or dangerous, inviting curiosity or deterring it. With these people, it was impossible to tell, and his curiosity bore no fruit.

“You’d tell me what they’re doing to you, wouldn’t you Mr. Adonis?” Jurdin asked without expecting a response. He eyed the fresh bandages adorning his patient, multiple areas still slightly wet from surgical incisions. The ever-present water stains below his empty eye sockets made Jurdin’s stomach turn. Couldn’t they spare at least some medi-gel? Tola knew that supplies were short following the war effort, but seriously. This was ridiculous. Even if he couldn’t fuly understand a human’s pain response, this was irrefutably extreme. The Alliance spent a fortune on new cybernetic arm and ear implants but couldn’t afford medi-gel? Absolutely bizarre. Jurdin eyed the dark gray prosthetic arm attached to Adonis’ left shoulder, the fibrous synthetic muscles faintly smelling of rubber and fresh antiseptics.

“At least it works, I hope.” Looking over the prosthetic, it looked state of the art. He wanted desperately to examine it. After a quick moment of scrutiny, he noticed the three quick-release pins embedded in the artificial shoulder muscle. Simple, but undeniably effective. If by some terrible event the arm were to be torn off, the pins were designed to break cleanly. That way the mount in his ribs and shoulders wouldn’t tear his organs out of his shoulder like a meat grinder. Being careful not to disturb his patient, he slowly reached out and started to undo the pins. Adonis didn’t move, his regular rasps keeping in time with the thrum of his breathing machine.

The manufacturing was truly magnificent. As far as Jurdin could tell, it was made specifically for Mr. Adonis. What’s more, there were small eezo nodes consistent with biotic amp tech.

“You’re a biotic, Mr. Adonis?” Jurdin asked, intrigued. “Your file didn’t mention that. Then again, your file left out a lot of things.”

Moving to reattach the prosthetic, Jurdin noticed the thumb-sized plug firmly installed into the central port that Adonis’ new arm mounted to. When it was in place, it pressed against the corresponding mechanism in the prosthetic, preventing the circuits from connecting and the arm from moving. Again, simple and effective, but for what? Were they afraid he’d somehow hurt himself? The man couldn’t move without incurring excruciating physical pain. He set the prosthetic on the nearby table.

“No use keeping that in there.” Jurdin exhaled, firmly gripping the rubberized plug. Placing his other hand gently around the cuff, he braced against an increasingly fidgeting Adonis.

“I’m going to count to three, alright? One… two…”

Before he could say three, he yanked the plug free from its socket with a satisfying pop, a thin wire following it. Adonis writhed in agony, a muffled scream emanating from his breathing mask. His heart rate spiked, his breathing temporarily increasing as he rode out the wave of pain. Examining the plug, Jurdin noted the wire attached to it, leading further into Adonis’ body. How deeply was it implanted? What kind of damage could be done by yanking it farther out? Horrified, Jurdin scanned Adonis with his omni-tool.

Jurdin’s lip curled as he let out a short string of expletives, moving to staunch the small trickle of blood coming the plug’s former housing. Reviewing his scan, he was mortified to see that the wire followed Adonis’ entire digestive tract, at the end of which was a small electrical device, the same size as the plug he’d pulled. Further examination showed that the device would release small electrical charges throughout the wire if the corresponding sensor was disturbed. The sensor in question, Jurdin realized, was dangling three inches from where it had been yanked free. Further efforts to remove it would be met with a severe burning sensation throughout the entirety of Adonis’ chest and abdominal cavity. To his dismay, the device also had a backup power source, fully activating should the wire be cut. He didn’t want to imagine what that might feel like.

Jurdin grimaced as he mentally replayed how he would have installed the device. Installing the plug through the shoulder, it would be a simple procedure to place the flexible wire and corresponding plug into the esophagus and stomach. Then the recipient’s digestive system did the rest of the work.

“So they _are_ trying to hurt you.” Dr. Tola murmured, suddenly very doubtful of his own safety. If they were willing to do this to Adonis, what might they do to him if he balked?

He’d just have to refrain from balking, then. Who knew what kinds of things these people were capable of? But they were needlessly torturing an innocent man, as far as Jurdin was concerned. No one deserved this level of mutilation. Jurdin paced across the room, unsure of what to do. He glanced at the rubberized plug dangling from Adonis’ side. Maybe he could start there. Examining the device with his omni-tool, it appeared to be relatively simple in construction, and Jurdin had no doubt that he could deactivate it. Then it would be a simple matter of cutting the wire and letting it pass through Adonis’ stool. Better to let the wire prick a small, low risk perforation in his esophagus, or pull the wire out through his shoulder, widening the hole as the sensor came with it.

Jurdin’s breath came in quick bursts as he hyperventilated. Two months ago he was worried his career was over, now he was worried that his life hung in the balance. If showing mercy here got him into some hot water, death might be a blessing compared to what Cadmus was willing to do to him if they found out. He could just as easily pretend he’d never seen anything! Reattach the prosthetic and play dumb, act like he was none the wiser and keep collecting Cadmus’ money. His gut wrenched as he wrestled with the thought.

Throughout his life he’d prided himself on his integrity. It’d lost him a lot of friends over the years. High and mighty, they called him, and to a certain extent he agreed. He was at the top of his class for a reason, and if they couldn’t see that they didn’t deserve the honors he’d earned. But now that integrity flew in the face of his budding sense of self-preservation.

He hoped it was worth it.

After a few excruciating minutes of fiddling with his omni-tool, Jurdin finally let out the breath he’d been holding. His omni-tool pinged, the display showing that the electrical device was inert. Carefully severing the wire, he disposed of the plug, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Alright, Mr. Adonis. Give it another few hours and I’ll assist in getting the rest of that wire out for you, okay?” He slumped into the nearby chair, catching his breath. He needed a plan, and he needed one now.

His attention turned to the prosthetic arm still laying limply on the table. He could reattach that while he thought about it. No use having someone walk in and wonder why he’d removed it. Gingerly picking it up, he connected the arm with a series of clicks as the pins snapped into place.

A sudden pressure clamped around Jurdin’s throat as the arm sprang to life. He gurgled in alarm, his eyes popping in a shocked expression. Struggling against the arm and its owner, Jurdin clawed at the synthetic muscles as his face paled. The hard ceramic bones underneath were unyielding as the unsuspecting doctor was strangled, his vision fading.

Then, just as suddenly as the arm clamped down, it released its vice-like grip on Jurdin’s throat. The doctor collapsed on the floor, gasping. Adonis sat, unmoving and silent above the salarian, his own breathing labored and harsh.

Eventually, Doctor Tola caught his breath, slowly standing away from his paraplegic attacker.

“You know, if you want to get out of here, you might not want to kill the one person _willing and able to help you._ ” Tola retched incredulously. He wasn't even sure that Adonis could hear him. For all he knew, there was some nefariously engineered block in his cybernetic ear as well! His doubts came flooding back. If Cadmus didn’t kill him, would Adonis? He shook his head, clearing away such thoughts. He had to trust Adonis, but that didn’t mean he’d be stupid about it. Once Cadmus’ work with Adonis was done, whatever sick purpose it may have, Tola’ safety couldn’t be guaranteed after the fact. No, Adonis was his only option, his only hope.

Calming his nerves, Tola’s attention caught when an unfamiliar sound came from somewhere within the room. Looking around, he noticed the small noises that Adonis vocalized.

The man was sobbing. Small, pitiful gasps that were barely audible, but they were there. Jurdin’s heart sank as he watched the bandages on Adonis’ face darken with tears.

Maybe he was Adonis’ only hope, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up, but to what end? Who is stringing Garrus along, and for what? Tune in next week to find out!
> 
> Lmao I'm just being dramatic. Thanks for reading!


	5. An Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus and his team crash land on Eden Prime. What sort of enemy do they face, and why?

“Ten minute ETA, Garrus.” Cortez turned his head from the pilot’s seat of the _Kodiak._

Nodding a response, Garrus looked to his teammates.

“Liara, what have you got?”

“My sources indicate the hanar ship Javik acquired was recently implicated in an incident in this system.” The asari replied dispassionately. “Seven workers at the local fuel depot were killed in what’s been reported as a robbery gone wrong. Local authorities have identified an eighth body that isn’t in the depot’s employee roster.”

“Javik’s not mentioned in any of these reports. Looks like whoever else was at the scene took him before the locals could check out the damage.” Kaidan looked over his datapad.

“The depot’s registry and security feeds have also been conveniently scrubbed.” Liara pointed out. “Whoever took him knew exactly what they were looking for, and they didn’t leave any evidence.”

“Except for the ship.” Garrus interjected. “You said an eighth body was identified as the culprit? Who was it?”

“A batarian named Roth Dax, you think he was planted as a decoy?” Kaidan queried.

“I’d be willing to bet he’s the one the hanar ship is registered to.” Garrus mused, “Or the one blamed for its theft.”

Liara typed a few keystrokes on her datapad.

“Yes, it shows that the ship was reported stolen two weeks ago.”

“Two weeks ago? Without the relay, it must have taken Javik months to get this far!” Kaidan blurted.

“Seems like sloppy work from our would-be kidnappers.” Liara said.

“Probably didn’t expect two spectres and the Shadow Broker to–” Garrus was cut off when the shuttle suddenly lurched. The Kodiak’s lights shut off, the emergency lights failed to initiate without backup power. The interior cabin was frighteningly silent as the shuttle’s engine came to an abrupt stop.

“What’s going on!?” Garrus made his way to Cortez, watching the unresponsive displays.

“Massive energy spike!” Cortez strained against the dead controls, desperately trying to get a response. “It’s like we were hit with a solar flare or something! Everything’s fried!”

“Can you get a signal to the _Normandy_?” Garrus asked, wide eyed. He struggled to stay standing as the shuttle entered a frantic tailspin. The shuttle began to rattle and shake violently.

“Might take more time than we have.” Cortez breathed grimly. “We’re already going planet-side.”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Garrus shook himself, gun drawn as he exited the wreckage of the _Kodiak_ , Steve and Kaidan in tow. They were lucky to be alive, if not for Liara’s quick thinking. Using a mass effect field, she was able to shield the shuttle’s occupants from serious injury, but she herself hadn’t been as fortunate. Kaidan carried the limp asari, still unconscious as caked blood stuck to the side of her head. They were lucky the blast hadn’t penetrated the shuttle’s cabin, or they probably would’ve all died instantly. A quick application of medi-gel would keep her alive for now, but she needed more long term medical treatment.

“We need to move, they’ll be looking for survivors.” Garrus commanded. There was an unspoken understanding between them all that it was no accident their shuttle went down. That level of radiation bombardment had to have come from somewhere, but where? Cortez was no slouch, he would have mentioned it if there was something wrong. He’d even said that he hadn’t received any unusual sensor readings prior to the attack. No use dwelling on it now.

“Closest settlement is nine clicks southwest of here.” Cortez informed him.

Garrus nodded. “Let’s move.”

It wasn’t long before they were up to their necks in unidentified mercs. Kaidan and Steve were good shots, but Garrus put them to shame. He downed as many as he could as efficiently as he could, his shots pegging his targets cleanly in the head more often than not. He was puzzled to note that their charcoal grey armor with red and yellow paint lines didn’t match any mercenary op that he could recall. What it some newly formed outfit?

As they advanced, Garrus and Steve covered Kaidan while he carried Liara forward. They each hopped from cover to cover, using dirt mounds, boulders and foliage to break up their silhouettes.

With superior firepower and more thermal clips, the mercs slowly forced Garrus and his squad into a small hollow. With mercenaries pressing in on all sides, it was all the squad could do not to be overwhelmed as the enemy force began to flank them.

Hiding from a particularly eager mercenary behind a thick tree trunk, Garrus kneeled next to a man he’d shot earlier, listening to the merc’s comm chatter.

“Don’t let up on the bastards! We fucking got em!” A familiar voice growled in excitement.

Was that Zaeed?

Wrestling the comm clip out of the merc’s helmet, Garrus put it up to his ear. A concussive shot split the bark on the tree next to him.

“Hey Massani, you going soft on me? It’ll take more than that to take down _this_ Archangel.” Garrus yelled into the comm.

“Vakarian? What the hell are you doing here? Everyone stand down! I said stand down goddamn it!”

After a few minutes to acknowledge the ceasefire, Garrus gingerly glanced out from his cover, a familiar suit of roughshod yellow armor angrily swaggering through the foliage, gun cocked.

“Vakarian! You got proof that says it’s you?” Zaeed shouted a few yards out.

“Damn Zaeed, here I was thinking that installing mesh window detonators in Shepard’s apartment together was our special bonding moment.” The turian replied dryly, slowly standing from cover.

“Goddamn it, Vakarian. You know how many of my fucking men you just killed?” Zaeed blustered. “What the hell are you doing here, anyway?”

“I could ask you the same thing. Why’d you just shoot my team out of the sky?” Garrus retorted with equal indignation. “More importantly, how?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the squad was escorted into the colony, Garrus and Zaeed shared intel. Apparently Zaeed had been hired by a new Alliance Special Forces taskforce meant to defend Eden Prime and other human colonies from future pirate raids, in light of the war’s end. It was pretty tame for Zaeed, but even mercs need to eat. Garrus told Zaeed about his strange message concerning Javik, and how their shuttle had been assaulted with enough radiation to fry a small town. Garrus gulped in retrospect. Losing the shuttle was getting off easy, compared to a massive overdose of radiation poisoning.

After Liara’s wounds had been tended to, Zaeed led Garrus and Kaidan to his employer, Colonel Lorenzo Agota.

“Seems like intel dropped the ball pretty damn hard.” Kaidan struggled to maintain composure.

“No shit.” Zaeed scolded, pointing at Agota aggressively. “I told you Agota, pirates don’t crash land Alliance shuttles without any fucking backup!”

“Especially not with Council spectres aboard.” Agota admitted cynically, rubbing his eyes. “Regardless of how each of us feels about the situation, this is a serious incident. I’ll have to report this to Alliance Command.”

“And tell them what, Colonel? That you made a bad call? That you almost lost an entire platoon trying to take out a couple of spectres that _might_ be pirates?” Garrus snarled at the man. Sometimes it was hard to forget that the human military wasn’t as harsh as the turian equivalent. Then again, this was a major screw up, even if they weren’t responsible for the shuttle crash. Either way, it’d get the Council’s attention, and their scrutiny.

A few years ago he thought spectres were untouchable, immune to the petty squabbles of bureaucrats and the red tape they swaddled the lesser folk with. Maybe it was just Saren that was untouchable, Shepard always seemed to find more of the Council’s dirty laundry to weigh himself down. Then again, Shepard had always taken it in stride. Saren was some fairly dirty laundry for the Council in his own right, and Shepard cleaned it up for them. What tore Garrus apart was that he watched Darius do it. He chose to take the burdens of the galaxy upon himself, like chains tying him down during the flood. It was all Garrus could do, to convince him to come up for air.

And now it was Garrus’ turn.

After flared tempers had calmed, Garrus took the opportunity to speak with local authorities regarding the fuel depot incident. He didn’t want to spend any extra time with Colonel Agota if he didn’t have to. Sure, he looked human, but Garrus wasn’t convinced that the man wasn’t secretly a vorcha masquerading as an Alliance official.

“It’s like you said.” The security officer confirmed, sighing emphatically. “Ship’s believed to have been stolen by one Roth Dax. It’s at the impound lot across the way. I’ll send word so the guys don’t give you any trouble, sir.”

Garrus and Kaidan rummaged around the small ship, looking for any sign of clues or evidence. In Javik’s typical fashion, a wash station had been hastily installed for the prothean to clean his hands. Aside from the obvious addition, the ship had already been combed for evidence, and the duo had a difficult time finding more. Javik kept few personal effects, and they weren’t surprised to find little in the way of batarian habitation.

At least Garrus had experience with this sort of thing from his days with C-Sec. He respected Kaidan’s willingness to help, but he was a marine, not a detective. After multiple hours, the two were increasingly aware that they were unlikely to find anything.

“The place has already been scrubbed. If there was anything to find, it’s been found already.” Kaidan noted dejectedly. Garrus scoffed.

“Go ahead and check on Liara, I’ll be over in a bit.” Garrus sighed.

Without Kaidan to distract him, Garrus was alone to canvas the ship three more times. Each search had started and ended the same way, yielding no new evidence.

Tired, sore, and in need of a stiff drink, Garrus gave up for the night. He’d have more time to search tomorrow, but at that moment he needed to unwind.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I’m telling you, Vakarian, half of ‘em can’t even tell the scope from the goddamn barrel. They’re lucky they didn’t get smoked by reapers.” Zaeed grumbled into his rapidly emptying scotch glass. “I’ve tried teaching the sorry bunch, but it’s fucking hopeless!”

“Hmm.” Garrus grunted bitterly, his own glass keeping pace with Zaeed’s.

“You could show ‘em how to shoot, couldn’t ya Vakarian?” Zaeed mused. “The famous Archangel, now that’d get ‘em in line. Bunch of goddamn kittens, these Cadmus kids. Haven’t even seen a real fight until today, till you fucking killed half of ‘em.”

“Getting shot at tends to motivate people.” Garrus growled, motioning for the bartender to refill his drink. “If they don’t have the sense to get to cover, that’s on them.”

“Well that doesn’t sound like Shepard.” Zaeed paused, a mocking sense of concern in his voice. “You were Vice President of his fan club, Vakarian! I thought that nice guy bullshit had rubbed off on you more.”

“Well I’m not Shepard!” Garrus shouted, his glass clattering across the bar counter as his fists came down. Numerous eyes darted to the turian as he stood, his chair still wobbling from its fall. Garrus stood there, breathing hard as his chest tightened.

“Damn right you’re not.” Zaeed sipped his scotch nonchalantly, taking a pause before standing. “He was a good kid, Garrus, make him proud.”

He hadn’t expected to hear that from Zaeed. He’d always been a no-nonsense sort of guy, but maybe he cared about Shepard more than he let on. Garrus watched dumbfounded as Zaeed paid his tab and left.

Unable to breathe in the stale air of the room, Garrus hurriedly fetched his credit chit from the bartender, fleeing from the countless leering eyes he suddenly felt boring into him. As he exited the bar, his pace quickened from a walk to a jog, and from a jog to a sprint.

He ran through the streets of Eden Prime, the starlit sky clear and brisk. He breathed hard as his feet landed heavily on the pavement, the drum of his heartbeat matching the sweep of his long legs. His throat felt like it was on fire, his chest threatening to collapse on itself with the force of his emotion.

Back to the impound lot he dashed, shoving the security guard to the side as he entered the hanar ship.

There had to be something here! Garrus tore through the ship’s interior, desperately searching for something. Something to tell him where Javik was. Something to tell him that he could save him from his captors. Something to tell him he could save anyone at all.

Grunting with the force of his exertions, Garrus ripped apart the ship’s inner furnishings. The clamor of metal on metal and the cracking of plastic hid his desperate cries at first, but as his exhaustion grew, so did his keening. It wasn’t long before he was a huddled mess, hidden in the corner of the room. His knees to his chest, he heaved with the force of his shuddering, rocking back and forth as he wept.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Garrus awoke, his eyes were gritty and his back aching. Sitting up on the floor of the hanar ship, he let out a dry croak as he looked around. Soft daylight filtered through the hull’s viewports and entrance hatch. Cool morning air gently stirred in the soft quiet while Eden Prime began to awaken. Standing on unsteady legs, Garrus hobbled to Javik’s wash station, one of his feet numb from laying on it. Sucking his dry tongue, he swallowed a few times to lubricate the feeling of sandpaper in his throat.

A cold splash ought to wake him. He had taken up the habit in the morning after seeing Darius do the same thing. He couldn’t feel the shock as well through his face plates, but the sensitive skin on his neck worked fine.

Moving to fill the basin with water, Garrus huffed in frustration when the faucet produced nothing. He stubbornly tried turning it off and on again a few times, hoping the issue would resolve itself. The basin remained tauntingly dry.

Garrus hung his head in resignation, groaning loudly. First he had no evidence, now he couldn’t even get a measly trickle of water from a damn faucet. He sunk to his knees, pressing his forehead against the edge of the water basin. He purred weakly, trying to focus. Shutting his eyes as he grumbled, he tried to ignore the growing maw in his stomach, demanding to be fed.

After a few moments, Garrus opened the basin’s access panel, examining the plumbing within. He’d already looked inside for evidence the day before, but this time his goals were more self-serving. Running his omni-tool over the internal pipes, Garrus searched for signs of blockage. To his dismay, there was a blockage, and worse, it was in the water tank itself. To clear it, he’d have to dismantle the entire wash station, and he wasn’t in the mood.

The more he thought about it, the more enraged he became. How did a blockage get into an isolated storage tank? What would Shepard say if he saw him whining like a child? Was Garrus Vakarian going to admit defeat to a water tank?

Certainly not.

Steeling himself, he set to work undoing fasteners and other components, methodically disassembling the wash station. After about an hour, he finally had access to the storage tank. Triumphantly and unceremoniously tearing it open with an omni-blade, Garrus frimly gripped the object inside as water rushed out of the tank. Puzzled, he examined it.

It was some sort of lockbox, about twice the size of a deck of cards. The cold grey metal glinted in the soft light. Turning it over, Garrus was unsure how to open it. His omni-tool couldn’t crack it, and attempts to overload its’ electrical systems failed outright. Whoever had made it, they wanted it to last. As far as he could tell, the lockbox was encoded to respond to voice commands, but without knowing whose voice it required, he was stuck. Maybe Tali would have better luck.

As he went to exit the ship, Garrus stopped in his tracks as an unfamiliar figure rose to meet him through the entrance hatch. The human mercenary was wearing ruby red armor, the gold accents and yellow goggles bright against the low light of the ship. The man rasped like a volus, his metallic voice deep, throaty and jagged as his chest visibly rose and fell.

“Hand over the box.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I'm not super thrilled with this chapter. For now it's getting from point A to point B, but hopefully I'll get my mojo back while I write the next chapter ^_^/
> 
> I've also been brushing up on my drawing, so I'm shamelessly plugging my twitter, @akroveros! I've got a few sketches of Shepard and Garrus over there, with more to come eventually!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	6. Trial by Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garrus continues to follow the trail left on Eden Prime, just not in the way he expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has brief suicidal ideation and blood, just as a forewarning. Other than that, happy reading!

Garrus didn’t have much time to comply with the mercenary before he started shooting, pistol firing a rapid succession of bullets that dug into Garrus’ shields. Good thing he hadn’t taken his armor off last night. Diving into the cockpit, Garrus lamented his situation. Glancing out toward the shooter, Garrus watched as the man walked robotically through the ship. He’d be lucky to get a few shots off before the guy was literally on top of him. With his exits blocked, he’d have to outmaneuver the human and shoot his way out, and he was low on space to do it. In the tight confines of the hanar ship, it was like staging an entire battle inside the _Kodiak_. Turning, Garrus locked the interior cabin shut to buy himself time, the human jerking as he trudged toward the turian.

Garrus racked his brain, trying to think of a way out. The combination of exhaustions from his poor sleep and heavy exertions a few minutes prior made it hard to think properly. There was a heavy thud against the door. His mandibles twitched in frustration, but then it dawned on him.

Jumping into the pilot’s seat, Garrus began to rapidly enter commands on the display as it popped up. The display in front of him flashed red as it blared a warning tone. The security lock that the impound lot had placed was slow to allow him access.

The door of the cockpit thudded again, slightly bowing inward.

Garrus swore as he struggled against the security program. His spectre codes were taking an excruciating amount of time to be verified. Eventually, the ship’s navigation display lit up, its engines beginning to whir.

Garrus initiated takeoff procedures, ignoring the warning transmissions from the colony’s airfield. After a short minute, he was in the air. He flipped on his commlink.

“Kaidan! We’ve got a situation, suit up and meet me at the hospital.”

He was met with silence and static.

“Kaidan, respond!”

Eventually Kaidan picked up, the sounds of gunshots echoing through his earpiece.

“Garrus! I’m at the hospital with Cortez and Zaeed. We’re pinned down, they’ve got Liara!”

Who could ‘they’ be? He was beginning to think Kaidan was right. Coming to Eden Prime was a mistake.

“I’m ten minutes out.” Garrus estimated. If he were in a better mood, he might have mentioned something along the lines of ‘dropping off an unwanted guest’ in his usually sardonic tone. Right now he was livid. Nothing quite like a firefight in the middle of a civilian settlement first thing in the morning. Shame on him for thinking the war was truly over.

Garrus was forced out of his thoughts as a loud bang sounded behind him. The door of the cockpit jerked open a few inches as a biotic blast tore into them, giving them a domed shape. An armored glove gripped the two halves of the door, crackling with biotic energy.  
With a few quick inputs on the display terminal, Garrus sealed the ship’s entrance hatch. Angling thrusters to gain altitude, he pushed the ship as fast as it would go. With his free hand, he gripped his sidearm, firing a few shots at the merc trying to force his way in, stalling his advance. He’d never been well equipped to deal with biotics in direct combat, he’d always been left it to Shepard or Liara. With both of them otherwise preoccupied with, _that,_ to some degree, he’d have to get creative.

“Spirits, I hope this works.”

As the ship continued to gain altitude, he looked in dismay as five smaller security vessels launched from Eden Prime, following his trajectory. With superior engines, they’d be on top of him in no time. He ignored the labored breathing of the merc behind him, firing in steady bursts to keep him at bay.

“Damn it, Garrus, let me in!” The mercenary barked, his slightly robotic voice sounded like grating metal.

This piece of shit didn’t have permission to know his name, let alone call him by it. He hastily switched out his gun’s thermal clip, firing more rapidly at the human.  
Just like he had predicted, it didn’t take long for the security vessels to catch up to the hanar ship. To his surprise though, or rather as he’d suspected, they immediately started shooting.

“Can’t expect anything less these days.” Garrus gritted his teeth as he struggled to maneuver with one hand. It was all he could do just scrape past their fire. If he lived through this, he reflected, he’d have to make sure that Joker and Steve got a raise. One of the security ships hailed him, connecting automatically. A voice began to shout through the connection.

“Adonis, get out of there! We’ll salvage the box from the wreckage!”

The banging on the door didn’t lose any power or slow down. Garrus maintained his fire. His shields were getting low. The ship slowly climbed through the atmosphere, into the cold depths of the cosmos. He really hoped his plan worked.

“Adonis, come in! Damn it turn your commlink back on! That stunt with the shuttle was pushing it, you hear me!?”

Frustrated, Garrus brought back his gun arm, firing a decisive shot into the console’s speaker, muting the security officer, if that’s who he was. The damaged section of the console slowly faded, the damaged lights failing to emit the hanar’s luminescent dialect. He leveled his gun back at the steadily widening gap in the door. The ship rattled as a security ship’s shot connected.

“So, Adonis, is it? Just what the hell do you have planned here?” Garrus growled. “I’d love to know just what you have in store for me.”

He got no response, not that he wanted to hear one. The mercenary fired once, removing the last shred of Garrus’ shields, followed by a biotic attack. Garrus felt himself become weightless as the mass effect field lifted him up a bit. Good thing he’d strapped in, the heavy bands dug into his chest and waist, rubbing against his armor. The console became slightly harder to reach. The display began to flash with warning symbols, resisting his inputs.

“Say hello to the reapers for me.” Garrus grunted, punching in a command into the console.

The ship’s entrance hatch flew open, venting its contents into the void. At the same time, the ship groaned as it pulled a complete U-turn. Garrus gagged and struggled to stay conscious as he was thrown against his seat, but the straps held. Checking behind him, his breath was stolen from him as he watched the ship’s cargo fly out, a certain suit of red armor following after it.

Quickly turning back to the console, he sealed the entrance hatch, allowing the ship’s life support systems a few excruciating seconds to refill the interior. As fresh air swooshed into the cabin, Garrus gasped for breath, his head spinning, but he wasn’t done yet.

Now facing the way he came, Garrus whispered a silent prayer as he dove headlong into the array of security ships. Now that he had reversed his course, it seemed that his pursuers were at a loss. Passing them in a matter of seconds, he dove through the atmosphere, watching intently as he monitored the integrity of the ship’s flaming hull.

After a minute of this, Garrus noted with grim satisfaction that the security ships were slow to pursue him back down. If he angled away from the colony, he could let them believe he’d been dispatched as the ship became a burning hunk of scrap. It was a delicate balance, this impromptu juggling act of his. Aiming for a false target, maintaining the ship’s hull as it burned, and a last-minute save were beyond his piloting skills, but he had to try anyway. With the colony’s anti-aircraft cannons, he’d be lucky if he wasn’t obliterated outright. Then again, he knew they wouldn’t. He had something they wanted, and it’d be impossible to find if they scattered him in the wind.

As he approached the planet’s surface, Garrus counted the seconds. It helped to compare his situation to simple calibrations on the _Normandy’s_ thanix cannons, like it was just a bit of math and fine tuning. He did his best not to dwell on the fact that he’d be very dead if he was wrong.

Then again, would that be so terrible? He had someone waiting for him, and oh, did he want to be there with him.

_“I’ll be looking down, you’ll never be alone.”_

Garrus roused himself from the distraction. He’d never forgive himself if he left his squad to die here. He would have time to berate himself later, though, for now he needed to focus.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kaidan watched wide eyed as the hanar ship rose, and subsequently fell back down. Garrus wasn’t answering his comm. Zaeed punched his arm.

“Get it together!” The man shouted over the din of gunfire. Kaidan nodded, shaking himself.

Kaidan was surprised that Zaeed was so willing to help him. When Steve frantically told him that the bruised pilot had been “escorted” out of Liara’s room, he was met with gunfire when he tried to find out what was going on. It was then that he’d called Zaeed in a state of near panic. He’d never worked with or even met Zaeed before this mission, but from the way Shepard and Garrus had spoken of the man, he knew Massani could be trusted. Even stranger though, was the almost complete flip between Zaeed and his former subordinates. The Cadmus soldiers seemed better trained than before, lacking any hesitation as they eagerly shot at Kaidan in the hospital hallways. In response, Zaeed readily gunned down his men, none of them willing to so much as speak to him.

“Know anything about the sudden change?” Cortez asked the older man. With a toss of an arm, one of the Cadmus soldiers flew back with the force of Kaidan’s reave.

“Not a goddamn clue!” Zaeed fired a concussive shot, clearing the hallway door as the three men advanced. Cortez held back a bit, both to cover their rear and because he had no armor.

“I knew there was something off about these Cadmus bastards.” The mercenary growled.

Kaidan braced against the door frame for a moment, checking to see if the path was clear. He blinked heavily, the migraine he’d gotten last night still muddling his thoughts. A moment later, he watched in horror as a grenade flew past his head, towards Cortez. Almost like he expected it, Steve caught the grenade as he stood from cover, deftly throwing it back through the door just before it detonated. Some of the Cadmus soldiers beyond shouted in alarm. Zaeed nodded, impressed. Kaidan rubbed his ringing ears.

The three of them continued to slowly make their way through the hospital, more and more Cadmus soldiers popping up for each one they shot down. Even if they were able to secure Liara’s safety, they needed to secure an escape plan. Without the shuttle, they’d need some way off of Eden Prime, away from these Cadmus hounds. These worries and more compounded as time inched past. Eventually, they cornered a group of soldiers as they brought Liara’s unconscious body to the hospital’s landing pad. A shuttle was already prepped and waiting for them, more still lying dormant. 

“Take them out before they can board those shuttles!” Kaidan commanded.

The three of them were careful with their shots, so as to not hit the immobilized asari. The Cadmus goons had no such handicap. A ship flew overhead, dropping an Atlas mech. Great.

They did their best to weather the renewed onslaught, but it was difficult. With more troops funneling up and out of the hospital, it wouldn’t be long before they were flanked. When they were, it didn’t take them long to overpower Cortez.

“We got hostiles from below!” Steve cried, running for better cover. As he ran, a Cadmus soldier rounded the corner behind him, firing into the man’s shoulder.

“Aagh!” Cortez cried out in pain, stumbling a few feet from Kaidan.

“Steve!” Kaidan caught the man, quickly looking over the wound as excessive amounts of blood flowed from it. If they had been on a lower floor, he could have easily grabbed some medi-gel, but the hospital’s landing pad was infuriatingly barren.

“Damn it, hold on!” Kaidan popped off a few shots at the Atlas, gritting his teeth as he watched them bounce harmlessly off of the mech’s heavy shielding. His eyes felt like they might burst out his head. Their situation was getting desperate. He looked on, enraged, as Liara’s captors slowly engaged the shuttle’s engines, and took off.

“We need to move!” Zaeed shouted, gunning down two more soldiers. “We’ll take one of the shuttles, these bastards aren’t letting up!”

That was a great idea, if there weren’t a huge mech blocking the way. Kaidan ducked behind cover just as the Atlas detonated a rocket in his general vicinity. The heavy exoskeleton continued to advance, standing a few dozen meters away. In a minute it would simply shoot over their cover.

It wasn’t looking good for the three men. On one side, an endless supply of Cadmus soldiers continued to climb through the chaotic mess of the hospital below, while the Atlas mech continued to pepper them with bullet spray on the other. Kaidan’s head began to throb as he wracked his brain, a ringing in his ears piercing his mind as his thoughts gave way to his renewed migraine. Whether it was the ringing in his ears or the dull roar of flames he couldn’t tell, and he covered his ears in a vain attempt to block out the deafening noise.

It was then that he saw it: the massive ball of black smoke and flame, careening towards the hospital. Large blasts flew above it as the colony’s AA guns failed to hit their target. With a boom that knocked him to the ground, he had no time to react as the wrecked hanar ship crashed into the Atlas mech, reducing it to a burning pile of debris. Then his world went black.

  
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So you’re telling me that Agota _knew who we were and attacked us anyway?_ ” Garrus glared at Zaeed as he sat in the _Normandy’s_ medbay.

“I was still patched into their comm frequency, heard the bastard say so himself. Trust me, I'm pretty fucking surprised myself.” Zaeed scowled back.

“And you didn’t think to mention it sooner!?” Garrus struggled against Dr. Chakwas as she treated his burns. She put a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the gurney with a surprising amount of strength for an older woman.

“Sit. As riveting as this debriefing is, you can save it until _after_ you leave my infirmary.” She noted sternly.

Garrus scoffed as he watched Zaeed storm out of the room. As far as he could tell, the mercenary hadn’t received his full stipend from Cadmus yet, and would expect to be properly, if not generously compensated. After all, he’d sustained the least amount of injuries out of the four of them, and he had quite a few, even if they were mostly bruises to his ego. Kaidan had a minor concussion, and Steve had taken a bullet to the shoulder, perforating his brachial artery. As for Garrus, he had numerous hairline fractures and minor burns all over. Truth be told, he was surprised that all four of them had survived as close to unscathed as they did. He didn’t feel much like celebrating though.

“If they have Javik, they’ll want Liara for her expertise.” Dr. Chakwas gave him a knowing look. She always had a knack for knowing what the crew was thinking.

“That doesn’t make me feel better about letting them take her.” Garrus pouted, his mandibles twitching.

“Given the circumstances, I don’t think there was anything more to be done.” She pointed out, “When you make it your business to do the impossible, it tends to set the stakes fairly high, I’d wager.”

Before he could offer a morose reply, Kaidan shifted in his bed as he slept. Despite his concussion being less serious than his previous one, it still posed a major risk to his long term health. Dr. Chakwas quickly moved to his bedside, checking his vitals. Steve stood quickly, nursing his arm and accompanying sling. Despite having to repair their new shuttle, it wasn’t the _Kodiak,_ and he couldn’t do much with only one arm anyway. In the meantime, he’d hardly left Kaidan’s side, probably because he felt somewhat guilty.

What was that human phrase? Déjà vu? No, that didn’t sound right. Regardless, it reminded Garrus about how worried Darius had been, sitting at Kaidan’s side for hours at a time. He looked away from the scene, sulking bitterly.

He pulled out the lockbox he’d recovered, turning it over in his talons. He grumbled using his subharmonics, a bad habit he’d developed years ago. Darius seemed to be one of the few who could register the inaudible complaints, and it was a way for him to express his grievances in a way that didn’t disturb his non-turian crewmates. He seemed to be doing a lot of it lately.

Hopping up from the gurney, he strode towards the medbay door, activating his comm.

“Tali, meet me in the—” Before he could finish, he was deafened by a loud, mechanical screech, both on the other end of his call, and from the remains of EDI’s A.I. core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Garrus just can't seem to catch a break, can he? I know I said this fic was going somewhere happy, and it is, but I think it'll be more fun to let our poor turian stew for a little while longer, don't you?
> 
> Anyway, Happy Holidays and New Year! Sorry this chapter is a bit late, but with the holidays I'm just glad I got it done as soon as I did lol. I'll also try to be more consistent with updates on a weekly or bi-weekly basis, but unfortunately I can't make any promises >_>"/


End file.
